Chasing Him - Kat T. Masen Page 0,74

that. It’s over, okay?”

Crushed, he walks away, Tristan running after him.

Dazed and confused, arms wrap around me in comfort, and the moment I realize they belong to Charlie, I stiffen. “Don’t touch me,” I warn her.

“Adriana, but I—”

I turn to look at her, and with mixed emotions, I lash out as the force of humility hits me so hard I’m seeing nothing but darkness.

“It’s always about you, Charlie. He was moving on, but you come here dressed like a slut, and what do you do? Drive my boyfriend away from me.”

Lex moves toward me. “Apologize for calling her that.”

“I won’t apologize for anything,” I scream back at all of them.

I leave, running as fast as I can through the gardens and onto the driveway. My heart is beating erratically, and my breaths are far and few between. In the complete still of darkness, I’m finally alone but stumble on the stone driveway. I fall to the ground amongst the gravel, my hand scraping along the jagged edges.

There is pain.

But I am numb.

The only pain I feel is that Julian walked away.

He has given up on us.

Again, someone has given up on me.

There’s something to be said about a broken heart—it’s not only your heart that breaks, it’s all of you.

Mind, body, and soul.

Alone, I fall into the trap of darkness, silenced by the pain which feels oh so familiar. My heart

may have been broken and scarred, but now, the wounds are open, and I’m bleeding.

I see nothing.

I want nothing.

It’s cold and lonely, with no warmth or light to guide me.

It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve experienced it, time does not give me the wisdom or strength to handle the situation any better. I should be a pro at this. I’ve experienced more pain than I ever thought imaginable. Yet, here I am, desolate, weak, and I can barely breathe.

Somehow, I ended up at Eric’s, rugged up in a heavy woolen blanket wearing one of his white cotton shirts. Instead of allowing me to sleep, which seems like an impossible task, Tristan and Eric form the pity party by my side, trying to reassure me everything will work out, and that Julian was having a rough night.

Rough night or rough life?

I don’t see sense, and every decision I’ve made since the moment I walked into that support group haunts me. Should I have seen this coming? Am I that gullible? But even after I ask myself those questions, there’s one thing which stands out more than anything—he said he loved me.

My eyes eventually start to droop, suspecting Eric slipped something into the Chinese tea he forced me to drink, and sleep’s calling me.

Sleep—either my friend or my foe.

Tonight, it’s my friend.

***

I open my eyes to be greeted by a bright light shining throughout the perfectly furnished room. The sun is basking me with all its glory, reminding me it’s a new day and a new start to life. Tell me this is a nightmare? My hope is shattered as I see my costume beside me along with my heart, which lays helplessly on the floor smashed into a million pieces.

The apartment is silent, no voices are heard. My cell beside me reads seven, and sadly, no texts or calls wait on the screen, forcing my body to fall back into the cushions. My eyes are sore, closing them momentarily for relief, but the second my sight is blank, Julian’s face haunts me.

And the knife twists deeper inside me.

Eric and Tristan come through the front door, dressed in gym gear carrying a white paper bag. They both give me a sympathetic smile, but I have nothing to give in return. Tristan takes a seat at the edge of the sofa, pulling out a bagel, handing it to me.

I shake my head, refusing.

“Adriana, you can’t do this to yourself. You’re already a stick,” Eric begs me.

I stare blankly at him.

Tristan moves the bagel toward my mouth and pleads with his eyes to take a bite. All I see is Julian—his hair, his jaw, and the way his eyes wrinkle when he smiles. I take a bite, but only one.

“Now let me tell you about my Aunt Patty,” Eric says. “Married for twenty years and husband left her for his dental assistant. Busted him in the chair with the twenty-something-year-old using that sucky dental tool on his wang.”

“What?” I exclaim, momentarily pulled out of my funk.

“Eric, how is this helping right now?” Tristan complains.

“Was he hard? No, wait, dumb question, you’re talking about